


Lies, Damn Lies and Forgiveness

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8129675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Castiel proves he’s learned that confrontation is no way to influence a Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 414 – Sex and Violence. Originally posted to Livejournal in 2009.

Sam slammed the door shut and stalked across the parking lot. He glared in the direction of the Impala, clenching his jaw as his mind treacherously replayed yet another argument he’d had with his brother. Telling Dean to “go to Hell” had probably not been the smartest remark he’d ever made.

“Fighting each other is counterproductive.”

Sam whirled around and aimed his gun at the voice before his brain caught up with his reflexives. He could just make out Castiel sitting at one of the picnic benches that skirted the parking lot.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked. He peered out into the parkland beyond as he put his gun back in the band of his jeans, and then petulantly crossed his arms.

“I was made aware of what had happened. With the Siren.”

Sam flinched. “Made aware?”

Castiel looked up at the sky and then at Sam. Sam shivered despite the relative warmth of the night air.

“Divide and conquer has been Hell’s preferred method of disruption since the Beginning. It is foolish to allow them to do so.”

Sam bristled at Castiel’s tone. “Because angels know best, right?”

“Yes, we do,” Castiel interrupted before Sam could continue.

A cloud passing over the moon plunged the lot into darkness. One moment Castiel was seated at the table, the next he was standing in front of Sam, close enough that their breath mingled. Sam tried to take a startled step backwards but Castiel grabbed him by the wrists, tight enough to bruise. Suddenly Sam was very aware that pissing off an angel was another of his Very Bad Ideas. Perhaps he and Dean could invest in the trademark.

“What do you hope to accomplish by this defiance, Samuel?” Castiel asked. His gaze travelled all over Sam’s face, as if he hoped to discover all the answers he sought there as though written pages in a book. Sam swallowed hard.

“What do you mean?”

Castiel sighed and in that single moment Sam was nearly crushed by the weight of the angel’s disappointment.

“You know perfectly well what I mean. You are travelling on a dangerous path. Continue and the consequences will be severe.” The angel paused and loosened his vice-like grip on Sam’s wrists. “I would hate to be the one to cause you pain, after defending you so vigorously to my brethren.” And before Sam had the chance to let that information sink in, the angel vanished.

\+ + + + +

Sam sipped at his coffee – a peace offering from Dean. They’d both apologised, again. They’d both said they understood. They’d both been lying.

Sam knew he could never hope to comprehend what Dean had gone through in Hell. And if he allowed himself a moment’s honesty, he didn’t want to understand. It was too close to his own worries about what he was doing and what he might become, even as he let Ruby convince him to use his powers. Not that he really needed all that convincing, but she was a handy scapegoat.

And it was too close to his guilt that everything was his fault. From Dean’s death, to his torture, to his resurrection. To the angel’s presence on Earth, to Lilith’s gathering storm. He felt that all of it could be laid at his door. Even if all he’d done was be born a freak.

And he didn’t see Dean trying to understand _that._

So he sipped his coffee, ignored the doughnuts, and tried to find a case to take their minds off, well, everything. And he tried very hard to ignore the fact that he could feel Dean staring at him, the hairs on the back of his neck raising and his tolerance ready to snap.

\+ + + + +

They’d avoided another argument. Just. Dean had gone on a drive to “pick up supplies” though Sam was fairly certain that supplies wouldn’t be the only thing his brother picked up. And he was stuck in the motel, sprawled on the bed, trying to read a book, his whole body thrumming with tension.

He needed something. Some kind of release for the feelings pent up inside of him. He could almost taste the frustration on his tongue.

He pulled out his cell, scrolling down until he found Ruby’s number, even though he knew it off by heart. He was just about to ring her when the lights began to flicker and the radio switched itself on then off again. Immediately alert he leaned over for the gun Dean had put by the bed, only to have his wrists seized uncomfortably tight by an angel of the Lord.

“This is becoming a habit,” Sam said, frowning as he realised he sounded exactly like Dean. “Cas, what do you want?” he asked more quietly, trying to distance himself from whatever fucked up relationship Castiel and his brother had.

“I came…” The angel stopped and paused and Sam started to worry as Castiel seemed unable to continue.

“You’re not here to…?” Sam tried to pull his wrists back but the angel’s grip was far too strong for him.

“No, Sam, I’m not here because of any orders.” Castiel released Sam’s wrists then, and watched as Sam rubbed the circulation back into them.

“Then, what?”

“I wanted to see that you were all right.”

Sam snorted sceptically. Castiel seemed intrigued by the reaction.

“Sam…” Another sigh. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“You mean about what I might do?” Sam asked with a scowl.

“No. I mean about _you._ ”

Sam looked at Castiel properly then, and then just as quickly looked away, confused by the genuine-seeming compassion he could see there. But for all he knew angels could be just as creative liars as demons.

“And why does that matter to you?”

“It matters because Dean will never choose anything over you. And I do not wish harm to come to either of your souls.”

Sam shook his head in dismay. “So it’s all about Dean, huh? That’s what’s really important.”

Castiel startled him by reaching out and grabbing his chin in his hand, pulling until their eyes met. “I think you’re doing everything you know how to push your brother away. I think you want him to leave so you can go after Lilith yourself and protect Dean from the monster you can feel yourself becoming.” Sam tried to struggle then, but all his efforts were in vain. “I think you love your brother as much as he loves you and that you don’t want him to have to kill you. I think you don’t believe that you can be saved.” Tears pricked at Sam’s eyes, but he refused to let the angel’s words get to him. “But you’re wrong, Sam,” Castiel continued in a whisper, much gentler than his previous torrent of words. “You can be saved.” He paused. “You will be saved.”

And then he leaned down and started kissing Sam. Slowly at first, just the gentle press of lips, until Sam opened his mouth slightly and Castiel took full advantage, pushing his tongue inside Sam’s mouth until Sam was welcoming the taste of the angel, hands pulling at his damned trench coat as the angel pushed him back on to the bed.

“You can be saved,” Castiel whispered against Sam’s skin. And he kept on whispering it with each kiss they shared; with each soft touch of fingers against delicate flesh as Castiel undressed Sam and was undressed in turn. The air vibrated with the promise of salvation as Castiel lapped at Sam’s nipples, then his navel, and finally against his thigh. The tension in Sam’s body slowly uncoiled as the promise of deliverance had him bucking his straining erection into Castiel’s tight grip and then his orgasm rippled though him as Castiel’s warm mouth engulfed his cock and sent him into a blissful sleep where promises were kept.

\+ + + + +

Sam apologised to Dean and meant it. Dean was baffled, but accepted.


End file.
